


At The Movies

by GE72



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Ashley Seaver's final case, Gen, Meta, Movie References, Murder Mystery, Police Procedural, Return of Lila Archer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 11:21:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19811245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GE72/pseuds/GE72
Summary: (Between Season 6 and 7) The agents are called to a Virginia college town where a series of murders have coincided with the filming of a movie. During the investigation, Spencer Reid is reunited with actress Lila Archer, and cadet agent Ashley Seaver learns the movie hits a little too close to home.





	1. Chapter 1

_“People’s character is their behavior. We’re all capable of good and evil.”_ – Bertie Cavell  
___________________________

It was only Monday and the agents of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit were already busy. They weren’t being called in for any cases pending in another part of the country, but they were busy in their own right. 

They were on the phone, consulting to various police stations on cases they had, or catching up on their paperwork from other cases they had recently solved. Things had been made busier in some ways, with the recent return of Jennifer Jareau from her stint with the State Department, and unfortunately, the death of Emily Prentiss a couple of months earlier, along with talk of changes within the BAU.

But that was neither here nor there, as the agents did their work inside their bullpen or in their various offices.

Dr. Spencer Reid, the BAU’s resident genius and expert on practically everything, was cleaning out one of his desk drawers. Into a waste basket went old papers and memos, some that were older than him.

“Making room?” agent Derek Morgan asked as he came up to Reid’s desk.

“Just tossing out what’s unnecessary,” Reid replied.

He reached the bottom of the drawer and pulled out something he hadn’t seen in a while. A tabloid magazine from five years ago. On the cover was actress Lila Archer, photographed with what tabloids called her “mystery man.” It was actually Spencer himself.

“Now there’s something I haven’t seen in a while,” Morgan said.

Reid contemplated tossing it in the trash, but hesitated. Lila Archer was the actress he saved from a stalker five years ago in Hollywood.

“Have you talked to her lately?” Morgan asked. “We’ve been to L.A. three or four times since you’ve seen her.”

“We’ve sent some e-mails back and forth,” Reid replied. “But she’s busy. I’m busy. I’m pretty sure she’s seeing someone else.”

“Such is Hollywood,” Morgan said.

Reid put the magazine back in the drawer. It was an old copy, but in some way, a treasured memory. He did wonder how she was doing, but his busy schedule, and hers as well, kept them from making contact. 

Maybe one day….

___________________________

Aaron Hotchner, the unit’s chief, was doing paperwork when Jennifer Jareau – J.J. as she was better known as – came inside his office.

“Here’s the files on the case from Des Moines,” she said, placing it on Hotchner’s desk. 

“Thanks J.J.,” he said. 

She turned to walk out of the office, but instead closed the door. Hotchner looked up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” J.J. quickly replied. Then she said, “I heard from her last night.”

A look of concern crossed Hotchner’s already serious face. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s doing fine.”

(“She” was Emily Prentiss, currently residing incognito in Europe. Only J.J. and Hotchner knew she was alive, for security’s sake, in light of the whole Ian Doyle case, still unresolved as of this time. As far as anyone else was concerned, Emily Prentiss was killed in the line of duty.)

“She didn’t tell me she was, and I didn’t ask,” J.J. said.

“That’s good.”

“You know, I feel bad not being able to tell – “

“I know, J.J., but until we find Ian Doyle, it’s best that she stays officially dead. Even from the others.”

J.J. nodded. It was currently what was best for the unit. She left his office, as Hotchner picked up the file. It was about an Iowa farmer who had killed five people, and tried to repurpose them as fertilizer for his corn field. There was almost a sixth victim but the agents rescued her just as the farmer tried to cut her down with a combine.

Hotchner thumbed through the pages but noticed something on the edges on the latter pages. It was smudged from a powdery substance, staining them slightly in orange.

Cheetos.

_____________________________________________

There was a knock on David Rossi’s office door. “Come in,” the veteran agent said.

In walked Ashley Seaver, the BAU’s most recent addition and recent graduate of the FBI academy. She first met Rossi and Hotchner when she was twelve years old in North Dakota, when they arrested her father Charles Beauchamp, “The Redmond Ripper” for the murders of 25 women in a ten-year span. That was sixteen years ago. Since then, Seaver had joined the FBI, and the young agent had been assigned to help the BAU for a case in New Mexico some months back and been there since for remedial training, sort of an internship, and had gained valued experience as a profiler. 

“What’s up?” Rossi asked.

“This came in from Jersey City,” she replied, handing over a file of papers. “It’s about Lucy.”

Lucy was the woman who had tried to shoot Rossi at the end of a human trafficking case a couple of months back. She had tried to pass herself off as a victim of the traffickers but Rossi saw through her ruse. She had pulled a gun on Rossi, only to be shot and killed by Morgan.

“Her real name was Anna Lucille Benedetti,” Seaver said. “She ran away from home eleven years ago.”

“I suppose now we can tell her parents what happened,” Rossi said.

“Her parents were murdered five years ago.” Then Seaver added, “By her.”

Rossi looked up in surprise. 

“According to the report,” Seaver said, “Lucy ran away from home when she was fifteen. Later, she came back and murdered her parents, execution style. Neighbors in the area said the Benedetti’s were good, hard working people. When Lucy ran away, it took everyone by surprise. Her parents loved her and wanted her back. They matched her prints to those found on the murder weapon.”

The whole case was sad, as Lucy was part of the human trafficking ring that was operating in the area, sometimes forcing their victims into playing Russian roulette for their lives. Whether she was an innocent victim who turned because of Stockholm Syndrome, or if her parents didn’t realize she was a bad person to begin with, they would never know. That case was truly over, as far as the BAU was concerned.

“Thanks Ashley,” Rossi said.

“Oh, there’s one more thing,” Ashley said.

“What?”

“You know how Hotch said to inform him or you if we were asked to change or join other units some time ago?” she asked. Rossi nodded. “Well, I was approached by Andi Swann last week, and she asked if I wanted to join the domestic trafficking task force.” Andi Swann’s task force had asked for the BAU’s help in the human trafficking case.

“Really? And what did you say?”

“I said I would think about it,” Seaver replied. Then she said, “I’m leaning towards joining them.”

The sentence hit Rossi harder than he realized. In the time Seaver had been assigned to the BAU, he had been a father figure to her, guiding her through the process of becoming and eventually being a profiler, and helping her overcome the stigma of what her own father had done.

“I’ll know by the end of the week,” Seaver said. “Or our next case, whichever comes first.”


	2. Chapter 2

Their next case came first. 

Just after noon, the BAU’s ever eccentric and bespectacled technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, informed them that a major case had came their way. The agents assembled in the conference room at the round table, copies of the case file in front of them.

“This came in from Charlottesville,” she said to them. “We got a call from the police, specifically detective Jeff Grant, about three murders that happened in the past week.”

“What kind of murders?” Morgan asked.

“A variety of them,” Garcia said, clicking her screen remote. Pictures of the crime scene and the victim appeared on the screen.

“This is Janet Curtis, twenty five years old, from Charlottesville. She worked for a catering company. Late Saturday night, early Sunday morning, her roommate, Melanie Mercer, came back to their apartment and found her stabbed to death in their bathroom.”

The body of Janet Curtis was halfway out of the tub, partially covered by a torn shower curtain that had fallen. Her body had multiple stab wounds and there were lots of blood in and out of the tub.

“She was stabbed nine times,” Garcia said. “One of the wounds pierced her aorta.”

“Says here the shower head was turned off,” Morgan said. “Unsub turned off the shower after he killed her?”

“Looks that way,” Rossi said. 

“No suspects?” Seaver asked.

“None,” Hotchner replied.

“What about the other two murders?” J.J. asked.

Garcia clicked the remote. “First victim was killed last Tuesday. Barbara Hunt, twenty two, a prostitute from the DC area. She was found naked in the Rivanna River. She washed up near a picnic area, made a few people lose their lunch. She had a necktie tied around her throat. Medical examiner said she was strangled with it, dead before she was in the water.”

She clicked the remote again. “Then on Thursday, Philip Shaw was found strangled to death in his parents’ home in Charlottesville. He had the day off from his job with a money marketing firm and was watching over his parents’ house. His parents came home after a day trip to Richmond and noticed a bad stink in their house. They found him stuffed in a large chest in their living room. He had been killed just an hour after the parents had left for the day.”

“Says here he was asphyxiated,” Rossi said. “Someone held a pillow over his face before he suffocated after they broke into the house.”

“Was there any connection between the victims?” Seaver asked. “They were killed in different ways.”

“None,” Garcia replied. “But detective Grant did some checking. He looked into a movie production company that had arrived in Charlottesville, Galaxies Productions. They’re in town filming a movie. He found out last year, they filmed a movie around the Southern Illinois University in Carbondale. During the three weeks they shot a movie in town, four murders were committed in and around the city. Killer was never caught.”

“So, our unsub could be part of the production crew,” Reid said.

“I’ll look into any overlaps, find out if the same people worked on the two movies,” Garcia said.

“Looks like we’re going to Charlottesville,” J.J. said.

“More like we’re going Hollywood,” Morgan added.

Seaver looked at the photos on the screen. “You said Hollywood,” she said to Morgan. “The most recent murder, it looks like it was right out of ‘Psycho.’"

The other agents noted the scene. Like the movie, Marion Crane was stabbed while taking a shower in her room at the Bates Motel.

“It is,” J.J. noted. “But Norman Bates moved the body out of the room and placed it in the swamp behind the hotel.”

“Hard to move a body and find a swamp these days,” Rossi said, “even in Virginia. Maybe the unsub wanted the body to be found. Needed it to be found.”

“I think I recognize the other two movies our unsub is mimicking,” Reid said. “Barbara Hunt’s murder resembles the opening scene from ‘Frenzy.’ A woman’s body washes up on the shore of the Thames in London in front of a political rally.”

“Really?” Rossi asked. “I saw that movie a long time ago, when I got back from Vietnam.”

Reid added, “And the other murder, Shaw’s, seems to be from ‘Rope.’”

“’Rope?’” Seaver asked. “I don’t think I’m familiar with that one.”

“In that movie,” Reid answered, “two men strangle another man, then hold a dinner party with the body stuffed inside a trunk they used as a serving table. It was filmed like a stage play.”

“Maybe our unsub has something for Hollywood,” Seaver said. 

“Specifically, Alfred Hitchcock,” J.J. said. “All three of those movies were directed by him.”

“An unsub who likes to recreate murders from movies,” Rossi said. “A narcissistic personality with an affinity for doing things like a big production number.”

“Garcia, call the Charlottesville police, specifically detective Grant,” Hotchner instructed. “Tell them we’re on our way.”

____________________________________________________

After the agents left, Garcia went back to her office with the multiple computer screens and keyboards. It was from here that the former hacker provided information by gathering it in cyber searches, finding clues in cyberspace as to who and why to aid the agents in the field.

The first thing she did was send the message to detective Grant in Charlottesville. Next, she went online and called up the Galaxies Production crew from the first movie in Illinois. It was called “The Kappa Boys”, a comedy about college life that showed beyond the rowdy behavior, that fraternities did actually help benefit their members and the community in the long run. Some of them, she thought.

She compared it to a list of those on the current production filming in Charlottesville. The movie there was tentatively called “Mind Ripper.” It was a crime thriller, with a psychotic killer terrorizing a college campus. Garcia thought it sounded like an 80’s slasher film.

She ran through the names of the producer, directors, lighting crews, cinematographers. A couple of them were the same. Then she went through the names of the actors and actresses.

That’s when she saw it.

The actress’ name was there as plain as day. Though she never met her, Garcia knew who she was

She knew Dr. Reid was going to be very pleasantly surprised.


	3. Chapter 3

The agents were on the road to Charlottesville. Hotchner, Rossi, and J.J. in one SUV; Morgan, Reid, and Seaver in the other.

As they drove along the highway, Rossi informed Hotchner of what Seaver had told him earlier that day about joining the domestic trafficking task force.

“Really?” Hotchner said.

“But she hasn’t made up her mind yet completely,” Rossi pointed out.

“It would be tough to lose her,” Hotchner said. “But Swann runs a tight unit. She should be a good fit for them.”

The SUV’s pulled up to the Charlottesville Police Station. The agents went inside and looked for the detective in charge of the case.

Detective Jeff Grant, a man in his late thirties with a crew cut, met them in the conference room. A board had been already set up, with crime scene photos pinned up.

“Glad you can be here,” he said to them. “Some of the town is kind of on edge.”

“We’ll do our best to find out who’s doing this,” Hotchner assured.

“What made you think of the angle of the movie company being involved?” Seaver asked.

“Just a hunch,” Grant replied. “I checked out their last movie and where they filmed in Illinois. I was in contact with the police in the town they were at, a college town like Charlottesville. They had four murders during the film shoot, and all are still unsolved.”

“It’s too much for a coincidence for that to happen in both places,” Hotchner said. “We’ll double check. Maybe it happened in another city as well with this company.”

“Let me know if you need anything else,” Grant said. He left the agents in the conference room, as Morgan dialed up Garcia back at Quantico.

“Hello, handsome,” she greeted.

“Hey baby girl,” Morgan said. “We need to check on where else Galaxies Productions has been – “

“Already did that,” Garcia replied. “In the past five years, Galaxies Productions has filmed on location in nine different cities around the U-S-of-A, and only last year in Carbondale, Illinois, and recently in Charlottesville has there been any murders coinciding with their appearance. I’ve also checked for some overlap between employees who worked on both movie sets. There’s about eight names, all from southern California, a couple with police records but just misdemeanor offenses.”

“Garcia, get us information on the murders in Carbondale and send us a list of those employee names,” Morgan said. “We’ll see how they compare with what’s happened here in Charlottesville.”

“Will do…Oh wait!” she said. 

“What?”

“Are you on speaker?”

“No, why?”

“I looked on who’s involved with the movie, as in the actors and actresses who are there.”

“And?”

“She’s there.”

“Who?”

Garcia said the name. As soon as he heard it, Morgan looked over in the direction of Reid, trying not to make it so obvious.

“Really?”

“Send me pictures. Garcia out.”

Morgan put away his phone. This was one thing he was going to keep to himself, at least until now.

There were files on the desk and a board where the crime scene photos had been pinned up. The agents studied the files and the photos.

“If our unsub isn’t part of the production crew,” J.J. said, “he could be some kind of obsessed fan who’s into movies.”

“Who would follow a movie crew around the country?” Morgan asked.

“Maybe someone not officially attached to them,” Rossi said. “Maybe a relative of the crew.”

“We should go to the source,” Morgan said. 

_____________________________________

“Janet Curtis was stabbed nine times,” Dr. Nelson, the medical examiner said to Rossi. “Four of the wounds were deep enough to find a vein, one found the aorta.”

Rossi was at the medical examiner’s office, standing over the body of Janet Curtis on the table. Hotchner and Seaver had gone to the last crime scene, and Morgan, J.J., and Reid, were on their way to the University of Virginia.

“I found no defensive wounds,” Dr. Nelson said.

“Hard to defend yourself when someone surprises you in the shower,” Rossi added. “What about the other two victims?”

“Barbara Hunt, the first victim, was strangled to death,” Nelson replied. “The knot of the tie depressed her larynx and cut off her oxygen. She was dead before she was thrown into the water. As for Philip Shaw, he was also asphyxiated. We found threads in his mouth, and found the pillow in the house where he was staying. We had a hell of a time getting him out of the chest. Rigor was setting in.” He then said, “With Shaw, the forensics crew also found something weird.”

“What was that?” Rossi asked.

“Crumbs.”

“Crumbs?”

“Potato chips, snack crackers. Apparently, there were crumbs around the chest.”

Rossi recalled what Reid had said about the movie ‘Rope’, where the killers used the trunk with the dead body as a serving table. “The unsub must have celebrated his kill by eating something.”

“As long as he didn’t eat a piece of our victim,” Nelson said, “which he didn’t.”

“That’s good to know.”

__________________________

There was still some blood on the side of the bathtub and the floor of the bathroom in Janet Curtis’ apartment.

The shower curtain was gone, taken into evidence by the forensics unit. The unsub may have left some fingerprints on the curtain, but the police and the FBI weren’t holding their breath.

Seaver looked around the bathroom. “For a crime scene,” she said, “this looks well kept. All the action must have happened in the shower.”

She went over to the front door of the apartment. On the other side of the door, a couple of uniformed officers stood guard over the crime scene.

“And the lock was either picked or jimmied,” Seaver said. “Or she let the unsub in, because he didn’t come across as threatening. Her roommate wasn’t home. He may have come for a date, and she wasn’t ready. That’s why she was in the shower. He used a knife from the kitchen, a weapon of opportunity.”

Hotchner had listened to Seaver’s run through of the crime. “It all sounds plausible,” he said. Seaver nodded.

He then said, “Rossi told me about Andi Swann contacting you.”

“I figured he would,” Seaver said.

“I’d prefer it if you’d stay but I’ll back any decision you make.”

“Thank you, sir.” 

Hotchner asked, “How do you think they met? Miss Curtis and the unsub?’

Seaver looked around. “She worked for the catering company that was servicing the movie set,” she said. “She probably met the unsub there.”

______________________________

Morgan, Reid and J.J. drove out to the movie set at the University of Virginia. The school was out for the summer, but there were students there for the summer session. And of course, to see a piece of Hollywood come out to their school.

“Any Hollywood dreams, Morgan?” J.J. asked.

“Once upon a time,” Morgan replied. “If I wasn’t a fed, I’d be a leading man. I’d be like Denzel.”

“Seriously?” Reid asked. “You’re more like a soap opera star.”

“I wouldn’t mind that either.”

There was a movie set up in front of one of administration buildings on campus. Numerous movie cameras and lights had been set up, as crew members looked to be setting up a shoot for a scene.

The agents came up to a man sitting a high folding chair. The word “DIRECTOR” was imprinted on the back.

“Excuse me, are you in charge?” Morgan asked.

The director, a curly haired man in his forties, looked up. “I’m Gary Gorman, the director. What can I do for you?”

The agents showed Gorman their credentials. “We’re with the FBI,” Morgan said.

“We already have a technical advisor,” Gorman countered.

“We’re not here for that,” J.J. said. “We’re investigating a murder in town that might have something to do with your film crew.”

“Murder?” Gorman exclaimed as quietly as he could. “As in the real thing?”

“Yeah, the real thing,” Morgan said. “A woman who worked with the catering company that brought you your food was murdered over the weekend.”

“What does that have to do with us?”

Another man, dressed in a short sleeve shirt and tie, came up to them. “What’s going on here?” he demanded.

Gorman said to him, “They’re with the FBI. They’re investigating a murder. A real one.”

“I’m Harold Weyler, the producer of this movie,” he said. “What’s this all about?”

“We’d like to talk to some of your employees who worked on a movie you filmed in Illinois last year,” J.J. said. “There were murders in that town while you were there.”

“You can talk to them but after we film this scene,” Weyler said. He looked around the set. “Where’s my FBI agent?” he called out.

Someone responded, “I’m coming!”

The voice was familiar to Reid, as his eidetic memory kicked in. He looked to where the voice was coming from. That’s when he saw her, approaching where they all were.

She was wearing a dark conservative pant suit. Her blonde hair was very familiar to him, as was her eyes. The second she saw him, she stopped and her jaw dropped the proverbial country mile.

“Spencer!?”

He responded, “Lila.”


	4. Chapter 4

The last time they had seen each other, Lila Archer and Spencer Reid were outside of the Hollywood Division headquarters of the Los Angeles Police Department. She said goodbye to him and it had been caught by some photographers. The picture of them together was on the magazine that Reid kept in his desk drawer.

“Spencer, what are you doing here?” Lila Archer exclaimed, as she went up to him and gave him a hug.

“I’m on a case,” Spencer replied, really surprised and a little flustered by seeing her. “What are you doing here in Virginia?”

“I’m making a movie. I’m playing an FBI agent, believe it or not!” She reached under her blazer and pulled out a fake nine millimeter semi-automatic. “Here’s my gun to prove it.”

“Actually, FBI agents carry Glock semi-automatics. Then again, I carry a .38 Smith and Wesson. I’m kind of old school.”

Morgan cleared his throat to get their attention. 

Reid said to her, “Oh, you remember, Derek and J.J.?”

“Good to see you two again,” Lila said. “So, you’re all on a case?”

“We are,” J.J. said. 

“Sorry to break up the happy reunion,” Gorman said, “but we have a scene to shoot. You two can talk after we shoot.”

“Sorry, duty calls,” Lila said. 

“Same here,” Reid said. 

Lila excused herself as she went in front of the camera. The agents stepped aside with Weyler, the producer to discuss the case.

“So, a young woman was murdered,” Weyler said, “and you think it has something to do with our movie company?” 

“We know that the same thing happened when you filmed in Illinois last year,” J.J. said.

“I know, I was there,” Weyler said. “I came a week into the film shoot, and stayed for five days. There were two murders while I was there. They had some of the crew spooked. I had security increased on the set and imposed the cast and crew not to go out on the town.”

“We have a list of employees that worked in Illinois on the film shoot that are also here,” Morgan said. “We’d like to speak to them as well.”

“I’ll make them all available,” Weyler said. “Anything else?”

“We’ll let you know,” Morgan said. Weyler left them.

“What now?” J.J. asked.

“See how they make a movie,” Reid said, gesturing towards the set.

They watched the scene as it unfolded. Lila’s FBI character, along with her partner, were interviewing a person about a murder that had been committed. They had to do six takes of the scene, but after the last take, the director was satisfied.

When the scene was finished, Lila came over to Reid. “I think that’s it for now. The crew will have to set up later for another scene.”

“When do we get to see you in action?” Morgan asked. “Any shootouts planned or fighting the bad guy?”

“That’s for later in the week,” Lila said. “Now, I have to get some rest. I’m headed back for my trailer.”

“Wait a minute,” J.J. said. She called up a photo of Janet Curtis on her cell phone and showed it to Lila. “She was on the set last week as one of the caterers. Do you remember seeing her?”

Lila looked at the photo. “I remember her. She was serving food to some of the crew. We talked a little bit, but that’s all. I told her that her food was great.”

“Did anyone else talk to her?” Morgan asked.

“Some of the crew did. Why?”

“She was murdered over the weekend.”

Lila gasped. “Am I in danger – again?”

“We’re not sure,” Reid said. “She was the only link to the film crew here. The other two murders had nothing to do with the movie. Still, it’s too much of a coincidence that the same film company were in two towns that also had a serial killer strike.”

J.J. said. “We don’t want to alarm you, but we’re going to be talking to some of the crew here. Have you met any of the crew before?”

“No,” Lila replied. “At least not that I know of. Lot of these film crews got through a lot of personnel.”

“Okay,” Morgan said. “We’ll check on you later.” Lila nodded.

Reid said, “I’ll walk back with you to your trailer.”

The agent and the actress headed back to the trailer. As they did, both and Morgan and J.J. each quickly took a photo with their phones.

“One copy to Penelope, another to Will,” J.J. said.

“Multiple copies to mom and sisters,” Morgan added. “So let’s talk with those employees.”

_______________________________

Reid and Lila walked back to Lila’s trailer, parked with other trailers for the cast and crew, and went inside. Lila opened up a bottle of water, while Reid sat down in a chair.

“So,” he said, looking for the right words.

“So,” Lila said back, just as nervous but hiding it better. “When was the last time you went to Los Angeles?”

“A couple of times,” Reid replied. “Last year, there was this serial killer acting like a vampire, and the killer was connected with this rock star.”

“I heard about that,” Lila said. “Dante, right?”

“His real name was Paul Davies,” Reid replied. “He wasn’t the killer. It was one of his fans, being helped by his manager as a publicity stunt to sell records.”

“I saw one of his concerts. He was okay.”

“Then a few months back, there was this cab driver who was killing women who smelled a certain way. This was when Prentiss…I mean…”

“Who?” Lila asked. 

Reid remembered that Lila had never met Prentiss before. “Sorry. She was a colleague of mine.” He then said, “She was killed in the line of duty a couple of months ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Lila said.

“I shouldn’t be talking about that,” Reid said. 

“Okay. Are you seeing anyone?”

“No. You?”

Lila hesitated, then replied. “Actually, I am.”

“Oh.” In a way, Reid was expecting that answer, considering how far apart they lived and what kind of lives they led. “Who is he? Another actor?”

Lila told Reid the actor’s name. “We’ve been dating for about a year.” She then said, “You’re not upset, are you?”

“No. I mean, we’re living on different coasts, and we’re both busy. I kind of expected it, but also....I still think about you.”

“And I think about you too. Maybe that’s why I took this role. So I could figure out what your life is like.”

“It’s not for everyone, believe me,” Reid said.

Lila checked her watch. “I think we better get back to the set.”

Reid nodded.

The two exited the trailer. They had just taken a couple of steps on the ground when a couple of flashes of light caught them off guard. 

“Got it!”


	5. Chapter 5

The paparazzo clicked off at least three rapid fire shots from his camera right at Reid and Lila. The flash blinded them for a second, enough for the photographer to get his shot.

“Hey!” Reid exclaimed, as he automatically reached for his service weapon. 

The paparazzo turned and ran away from them. He got four steps before he ran into another man, coming towards the trailer. 

“What the hell!?” the other man said, as he tried to stop the paparazzo. But his attempt was met a forearm to his face and he was knocked down.

The paparazzo got a few more feet away, glancing back at Reid, before he was knocked down himself, falling on his backside.

He snapped, “What the f – “ But his comeback ended the second Morgan pulled out his Glock 17 automatic and pointed it at him.

“Going somewhere?” Morgan asked, as J.J. came up alongside him, her weapon drawn as well.

“Thanks Morgan,” Reid said, pointing his revolver at the paparazzo.

A burly, blond haired, man came up to the scene. “Miss Archer, are you okay?” he asked.

“I am now, Hank,” she replied to him.

“Yeah, her hero’s here,” the paparazzo said, shaking the cobwebs loose after being knocked down.

“Shut up!” Morgan ordered. “What the hell you doing here?”

“Hey, I’m making a living,” he said. 

“Let’s see your ID,” J.J. said. “Slowly.”

The photographer reached for his wallet and took it out, handing it to J.J. She looked at the driver’s license and a business card.

“Rod Mackowicz, Hollywood Glitter magazine,” she read. “Photographer.”

“It’s what I do,” Mackowicz said. “I get the shot. I get paid.”

“We get the shots too,” Morgan said, his firearm still trained on Mackowicz.

Reid holstered his weapon and picked up the camera. “This is one of those digital cameras,” he said, “not one of the old ones the paparazzi usually use.” He clicked on the screen. “I think he got my bad side,” he said, as he began to erase the photos of him and Lila.

Mackowicz exclaimed, “Hey, you can’t do that!” 

“We just did,” J.J. said.

The man Mackowicz knocked down got up, wiping his mouth. “Let me at him!” he growled, making his move towards him.

Hank picked up Mackowicz by the collar. “Sorry, that’s my job.”

“Thanks Hank,” Lila said. 

Reid handed Mackowicz back his camera, minus the incriminating photos. Then, Hank kindly but forcibly removed Mackowicz from the premises.

“You okay?” J.J. asked the bystander.

“I am,” he replied. He was about five feet ten inches tall, with dark brown hair. A trickle of blood came out of his nose.

“Is there a doctor on the set?” Morgan asked.

“He’s in that trailer over there,” Lila said, pointing at the one. “When Hank gets back, I’ll have him escort you there.”

Morgan holstered his weapon. “Are you okay?” he asked Reid.

“Thanks Morgan.”

“Paparazzi,” Lila said. “A hazard of the job.” She looked at the bystander. “And you are?”

“I’m Nick Johnson,” he replied. “I’m actually here on business.”

“What kind of business?” Morgan asked.

“I’m looking for the director, Gary Gorman,” he said. “He said he wanted to tweak a couple of scenes in the screenplay.”

“You wrote the script?” Lila asked.

“I did.”

“It was a good script,” she said. “And we have the FBI here too.”

“Really?” 

“He’s not the only one,” Lila added, as Morgan and J.J. introduced themselves.

“That’s a lot of agents for one movie,” Bates said. 

“Here on other business,” Morgan said. 

J.J. looked at the list of employees. “Lila, was that Hank Jankowski, part of studio security?”

“Yes,” Lila replied. “Why do you ask?”

“We’d like to talk to him,” J.J. said. “Routine.”

“Okay.” Lila turned to Reid. “I’ll see you later.” Lila said goodbye to Reid and headed back to the set. Hank Jankowski returned to the trailer area. 

“Where’s Miss Archer?” Jankowski asked. 

“She went back to the set,” J.J. replied. “Actually, we need to talk to you. We understand that you were worked with the film crew in Carbondale, Illinois last year.”

“That’s correct,” Jankowski replied. “I was part of a crew of ten provided on set security. What just happened with that paparazzi is run of the mill.”

“Any problems on that movie shoot?” Morgan asked.

“No problems. Everything went pretty smoothly.”

“Were you aware of the murders that occurred in Carbondale during the shoot?”

“We were,” Jankowski replied. “After the second murder, there was some added security from off duty police officers. Two of the murders happened off campus, even though there was some down time between semesters. The murders were just random, they didn’t involve any of us with the company. The murders spooked us all. Cops found one of the victims near where he shot a scene.”

“You seem very knowledgeable,” Morgan said.

“Used to be on the job in Los Angeles. Twelve years before I got shot. Galaxies hired me after I recovered. A majority of the security are former police.”

“Well, keep up the good work.”

“Will do. 

“Oh, this is Nick Johnson, the scriptwriter,” Morgan said. “Lila wanted you to take him to the doctor’s trailer.”

“I will,” Jankowski said. 

“Let Lila know I’ll be back,” Reid said to Jankowski.

Jankowksi nodded. He departed with Bates, and the agents went back to the Charlottesville Police Station.

______________________________

The police in Carbondale, Illinois, forwarded the information on the four unsolved murders to both Garcia and the Charlottesville police. Garcia sent the information to the tablets of the agents, while Grant pinned up the crime scene photos on the board in the conference room.

“These are just as bad as what we have here,” Grant said. “This guy is one sick SOB.”

Reid, Morgan, and J.J. came back into the conference room. “I can’t believe Garcia didn’t tell me that she was there,” Reid said to Morgan. “She only told you.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Morgan said.

“You should’ve told us,” J.J. added.

“How was the movie set?” Seaver asked.

“Lila Archer is there,” Morgan replied. 

Hotchner looked over to Morgan. “She’s there?”

“She’s playing an FBI agent,” J.J. said.

“Really?”

“Hold up,” Seaver said. “Who’s Lila Archer?”

“Reid’s girlfriend,” Morgan said jokingly.

“Actually, her hero,” J.J. said.

“I just saved her from a stalker,” Reid finally said. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Morgan said. “That stalker killed five people and almost made it six, just to further her career.”

“At least he’s behind bars,” Seaver said.

“She,” Hotchner corrected. 

“She?”

“Her name was Maggie Lowe,” Reid said. “They were friends and Maggie was a production assistant, but she wanted more. Like you said, at least she’s behind bars."

Rossi got everything back on track. “We got the information on the Carbondale murders,” he said. “Let’s see what movies our unsub based his murders on.”

The agents looked at the first set of crime scene photos, both on the board and in their tablets.

“That is Annalise Walman, sixty years old, retired from school teaching,” Hotchner said from a report. “Someone tied her to a wheelchair and rolled her down the stairs.”

“The fall didn’t kill her, according to the M.E.,” Hotchner said. “The unsub broke her neck after the fall.”

“That’s from ‘Kiss of Death,’” Rossi said. “An oldie but a goodie. Richard Widmark was a mobster who went looking to kill a rival mobster. He found the guys’ invalid mother, and did that to her.”

The agents moved on to the second set of photos. “Michelle Rollins was a seventeen year old high school student. She was found dead, stabbed multiple times outside her parent’s house. A death mask was found next to her body and a wireless phone in her hand from the home.” The death mask was of a ghostly skull but slightly distorted.

“Not your typical death mask,” Morgan noted. “That thing is right out of ‘Scream.’”

Hotchner continued, “The third victim was also a student, Keith Connelly, a junior at Southern Illinois University. He was found tied to a chair in his apartment, in front of a table full of food.”

“Someone stuffed him full of food?” J.J. asked.

“Someone force fed him food until his stomach ruptured, according to the coroner.”

“The human stomach can hold up to seven pounds of food at its maximum,” Reid noted. “Past that point, the lining will burst, and you’ll die from blood poisoning.”

“Which movie would that be?”

“That was the first murder in ‘Seven,” Morgan said. “Kevin Spacey killed his victims according to the seven deadly sins.”

“The final victim,” Hotchner concluded, “Caroline Hammond, thirty-five years old, a Hospice nurse. She went to the home of one her elderly patients. When the woman’s son and wife came home, they found the mother dead from natural causes, but the nurse wasn’t around. Two weeks later, they found the nurse.”

“Where?” Reid asked.

“In the family attic,” Hotchner replied. “Apparently, the unsub got inside the house, killed Miss Hammond, and placed her body in the attic. Nobody thought to look up there.”

“And nobody knew?” Seaver asked. “The smell from decomp alone would’ve stunk up the house.”

“The body was found wrapped in plastic. Coroner determined she was asphyxiated from being wrapped up.”

The agents shuddered to varying degrees. 

“Which movie was that from?” Rossi asked.

“’Black Christmas,’” J.J. said. “Me and my friends in college watched that late one night. Freaked us all out.”

“All four victims killed within a two week span,” Reid noted, “but the last victim wasn’t found until the movie company left town.”

“So, we have an unsub who likes to commit murders he or she saw in movies,” Reid said. “Someone who likes movies, maybe even works in the movie industry.”

“And can follow a movie company around the country,” Morgan said, “using them as cover.”

“I’ll let Detective Grant know that we’ll be giving the profile in the morning,” Hotchner said.

The following morning, the agents were ready to give the profile to Detective Grant and the police, but it would have to wait.


	6. Chapter 6

A maid at a Best Western Hotel went into a room to change the bedding on Tuesday morning, since there was a reminder hung on the door knob. More than the bed sheets would have to be changed, once she saw the dead body.

Morgan, Rossi, Seaver, and Hotchner, along with Detective Grant arrived at the hotel half an hour after the call came in that Tuesday morning.

The body was that of a male in his thirties. But they couldn’t see his face. The unsub had shoved his victim headfirst into the television set.

“Looks like our victim let his killer in,” Grant said. “No sign of forced entry.”

“What movie did our unsub get this from?” Rossi asked.

“I hope it wasn’t playing on the TV,” Morgan said.

Seaver and Hotchner looked around the room. The room was a deluxe, complete with a small kitchenette. The oven door was open on the kitchenette. Between the TV and the kitchenette, was a table, full of photography equipment, including a high tech digital camera with a telescopic lens.

One of the crime scene techs handed the victim’s driver license to Detective Grant. “The victim’s name is Rod Mackowicz from Los Angeles – “

“Mackowicz!” Morgan exclaimed. “We saw that guy yesterday on the movie set!”

“You talked to this man?” Hotchner asked.

“Not exactly.” Morgan related how Mackowicz crashed the set and tried to get photos of Lila Archer and Reid before being hustled out by security.

“I think I’ve seen this movie before,” Seaver said. “It’s from one of the ‘A Nightmare on Elm Street’ movies. Freddy Krueger killed one his victims by reaching out from a TV screen and pulling his victim into the screen to kill her in the dream.”

“Another reason why I don’t like modern horror movies,” Rossi said.

The coroner on the scene pulled the head out of the TV screen and lay down Mackowicz’ body face up. There was something metallic stuck in his chest.

“Our victim was stabbed first,” Hotchner said. “Probably to subdue him first before finishing him off.”

“If that’s the case,” Seaver said, “I think the unsub was trying to kill him another way.” She said to the coroner “Check for some defensive wounds on his hands.”

The coroner examined the victim’s hands. There was bruising on the knuckles.

“I think our unsub had another movie in mind,” Seaver said. “If he was keeping up with the Hitchcock theme, Mackowicz’ fighting back caused him to improvise.”

“Which Hitchcock movie?” Morgan asked.

“’Torn Curtain,’” she replied. “The one where Paul Newman faked a defection to East Germany. In one scene, he fought an East German agent in a farm house. The farmer’s wife tried to help by stabbing the agent but the blade broke off in his chest. They had to drag him to a gas oven and shove his head in to kill him.”

The agents looked at the TV then the oven. The kitchenette oven was of the gas variety but was nearly impossible to turn on the gas only.

“The gas wasn’t on when the maid went in,” Grant said. “Our killer either turned it off after he left or couldn’t turn it on in the first place.”

“Our victim fought back,” Morgan noted, “and instead of getting gassed in an oven, he got shoved into a TV set. Some choice.”

“I think I won’t be watching any crime or horror movies after this,” Grant said queasily.

The agents and detective Grant left the hotel room. As they did, Grant said to Rossi, “That young agent, Seaver. She looks to be on the ball there.”

“Her training’s paying off,” Rossi said.

They headed back to the police station, where the agents would deliver the profile.

_______________________________

“Judging by the style he has committed these murders, we believe our unsub has a narcissistic personality disorder,” Hotchner said, as Detective Grant and members of the Charlottesville Police Department listened. They were in the detective’s bullpen.

“We believe he is a male in his thirties, to early forties, and considering some of the physicality involved in these murders, is adequately fit,” Rossi said. “His victims are a mix of opportunity and selection.”

“Specifically, he has a compensatory narcissistic disorder,” Reid added. “Growing up, he was probably told he was not good enough to do certain things, and that motivated him to do it, and has accomplished his goal, at least in his mind, in a superior way. 

“The problem is, even though he has achieved it,” added J.J., “some people, like his peers or others, say it’s not good enough or had a ‘so what’ attitude towards him. This will make him upset, and try to convince others that he is worthy of their praise.”

“We also believe he is connected to the movie company that is in town, either directly or indirectly,” Morgan said. “He travels with or follows them under this guise.”

“The way he commits these murders is a way to show them he is on equal ground with these people who put him down, or even superior to them,” Seaver said. “The more people tell him no, the more it motivates him.” 

“We’ll be checking backgrounds of the movie company employees that both were in Carbondale and here in Charlottesville,” Hotchner said. “Thank you.”

___________________________

“Garcia’s House of Cyber Reality at your service,” she greeted.

“Hey Garcia,” J.J said into her phone. “We need some background checks on some of the movie company individuals.”

“Which ones?”

“The producer Harold Weyland, the director Gary Gorman, and a security guard, Hank Jankowski. He was a police officer in Los Angeles.”

“I’ll get it to you as soon as I can. Say, did Doctor Reid see his actress dream girl?”

“Yes, he and Lila reconnected after all this time,” J.J. replied. “From what we saw, she’s playing an FBI agent in the movie?”

“Wow! That’s so cool. I wonder if they cast a perky, technical analyst who likes to wear funky clothes?”

“We might find out later. We’re going down there.”

_____________________________

Hotchner, Rossi, Seaver, and Reid, along with Grant, arrived at the University of Virginia’s movie set. They wanted to talk some more to the Galaxies employees who were in Carbondale during the time of the murders. Plus, Reid wanted to see more of Lila Archer, as in keep an eye on her.

Seaver and Grant went to look for the producer Weyland. Rossi, Hotchner, and Reid went the set where they were filming.

Lila’s FBI agent was filming a foot chase scene around John Paul Jones Arena. They arrived just as the scene got underway.

A suspect in the case came came out running from one of the arena’s entrances, followed by Lila’s character in hot pursuit. As the suspect ran, Lila stopped, pulled out her service weapon, holding it with one hand, and yelled “FREEZE!” The suspect turned around and pulled out his gun, pointing it at Lila. 

“CUT!” the director called. Both actors stopped.

Hotchner and Rossi walked up to the director. “That was wrong,” Rossi said to Gorman.

“Really?” Gorman said back.

“FBI agents hold their weapons with two hands, not one,” Hotchner said. “It makes for steady aim. FBI agents are taught that in firearms training.”

“Yeah, but it looks cool,” Gorman insisted.

“It looks cool until you hit an innocent bystander and get sued for wrongful death,” Rossi said.

“Okay,” Gorman said reluctantly. He instructed Lila to hold the weapon with two hands. It took three takes before Gorman called “Cut!” and pronounced it a take.

Lila came up to Reid. “What did you think?” she asked.

“Do you get to shoot somebody in the scene?” Reid countered.

“I fire, but I’m supposed to wing him. Have you ever shot anyone?”

“I have.” Reid could’ve told her about how he shot that sniper inside an Illinois hospital with Hotch’s secondary weapon, or how he saved a doctor from a mourning father, but then he would have to say he got shot in the process as well. Lila didn’t need to hear that. “How are things here?”

“Fine. But we heard there was another murder in town.”

“There was. The paparazzi guy.”

“Him?!” Lila exclaimed. “How did it happen?”

“You don’t want to hear the details.”

Meanwhile, Rossi and Hotchner took Gorman aside for a few questions, letting him know about the murder last night.

“Man, that’s messed up,” Gorman said. “Paparazzi or not, no one deserves to die like that.”

“We’re asking everybody here,” Hotchner said. “Where were you last night?”

“After we shot, we called it a night around seven o’clock. We do have night shoots scheduled later.”

"So, where you’d go?”

“We looked at some rushes, then me and the crew went back to the hotel.”

"Best Western?”

“No, University Inn a few blocks away. Had some dinner with the crew and went right to bed.”

Rossi nodded. “We’ll need the names of the crew.” Gorman agreed. “First time director?”

“Second movie,” Gorman replied. “And no, I wasn’t in Carbondale last year. It was a teen drama, filmed it in Vancouver, B.C.”

“Good reviews?” Hotchner asked.

“No better, no worse. I liked the way it came out, no matter what the critics say.”

“Tough to please everyone, right?” Rossi said.

“I can’t please everyone, but I try to please enough people so the movie doesn’t tank and take the studio or the company with it.”

Grant and Seaver found Weyland in a production trailer doing some paperwork.

“Another murder!” he exclaimed upon hearing the news. “That’s just great! For crying out loud, who did I piss off to have things go this bad?”

“We’re checking where everyone was last night,” Grant said. “Just to clear everyone as much as possible.”

“At our hotel, the University Inn,” Weyland replied. “I was on the phone late to the studio execs in Hollywood, letting them know everything was fine, which apparently it isn’t.”

“I take it they don’t like the publicity?” Seaver asked.

“Film a movie, put their town on the map, and a bunch of people get killed, of course not. It makes us look bad.”

“Do you know anyone who would do this to make the studio look bad?” Seaver asked.

“It’s a hard business,” Weyland said. “But if you know someone who knows someone, you can get hired as soon as you get fired. Crew members are all over the place in Hollywood.”

“But this isn’t Hollywood, it’s real. How many movies have you produced?”

“A few. Six as the lead. Trying to make one better than the last.”

“Success?” Grant asked.

“Some good, some bad,” Weyland replied. “Critics, what can I tell you?”

“Feel like its not good enough?” Seaver asked.

“Hollywood’s a tough town,” Weyland replied, “but you can’t please everyone.”

________________________

“Have you seen the script?” Lila asked Reid.

He answered, “No.”

“I can get you a copy.” Lila signaled to someone, a young woman, and she came over. Lila asked for a copy of the script and the woman went to get one.

“Production assistant?” Reid asked.

“Local girl, here at the University,” Lila replied. “Security vetted her. She’s not crazy like Maggie was.” Gorman called for her. “Sorry, got to go.”

Reid found a chair to sit in. A couple of minutes later, the production assistant came back with a three-inch thick tome of “Mind Ripper.”

“Here’s a copy of the script,” she said.

Reid thanked her. As the next scene commenced shooting on set, Reid began to go through the script like he did with any other book. He was able to read twenty thousand words a minute and comprehend it just as much.

Rossi and Hotchner came over to Reid as he was reading the script. He was going through the pages every three seconds.

“Good reading?” Rossi asked.

The look on his face showed Reid was both fascinated and intrigued by the script. It took eight minutes to read and comprehend. But when he was finished, he had a worried, stunned look on his face.

“It’s him,” Reid said.

“Who?”

“The serial killer they’re looking for in the movie,” Reid said. “he kills his victims by cutting them open with one long diagonal cut across the torso, from the upper left to the lower right. He then finishes with repeated stab wounds after they’re dead.”

Both Hotchner and Rossi knew who Reid was talking about.

“Charles Beauchamp?” Rossi quizzed.

“Seaver’s father,” Reid said back. “The script describes how Beauchamp killed his victims.”

“How did the writer know about that?” Rossi asked. 

“We can ask him,” Reid said. “His name is Nick Johnson.”

Lila finished the scene, and came over to Reid. “How far did you get in the script?” she asked.

“I read it all,” Reid said, “and frankly, I’m concerned. How much did you know about this script?”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“The script describes the murders, and the murders resemble a case from many years ago,” Reid replied.

“Me and agent Rossi here worked on that case,” Hotchner said.

“And I read about your character. Your FBI agent character is also the daughter of a confessed serial killer who’s about to be executed, but she goes to him for help to solve these murders.”

“So?”

“And your character’s name. It’s ‘Ashley _Stevens_.’” That made Hotchner and Rossi’s ears perk up.

Lila asked, “Spencer, what’s this all about?”

Just then, Seaver and Detective Grant returned. “Hi Spencer. What’s going on?” Seaver asked.

Reid stood up from the chair. “This is Lila Archer,” he introduced to Seaver. 

“Hi there,” Lila said to her.

“Lila,” Reid said, “this is one of my colleagues, Ashley _Seaver._ ”


	7. Chapter 7

“The movie is about me? And my father?”

Naturally, Ashley Seaver wasn’t too happy that a movie was being made about her story, though it was probably a coincidence. It’s not every day that someone writes a movie script about an FBI agent investigating a serial killer and needing to go see her serial killer father to help catch the psycho.

“It looks that way,” Reid said. “But there are some details that aren’t close to what actually happened.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better about it?” Seaver exclaimed.

Harold Weyler came up to where the agents were, just behind the set. “I just got off the phone with Nick Johnson,” the movie producer said. “He’s on his way.”

“Good,” Hotchner said, “we’d like to talk to him.”

Morgan asked, “Does this have anything to do with the case?”

“Who knows?” Hotchner replied. “But I do like to know how he got information on Charles Beauchamp and how he knew about Seaver, if he does at all.”

“I’d like to speak to him too,” Seaver said.

“No,” Hotchner quickly interjected. “Me and Rossi will do that.”

Seaver said, “I want to know how he found out about my father –“

“So do we. You can listen in if you want, but do not say anything to him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Seaver walked off and found her way to the catering trailer. Their employees had already put out that day’s spread on a table, full of fruits, bagels, and donuts, as well as some bottled water and coffee.

Seaver picked up a bottle of water, opened it, and took a swig.

“I’m sorry.”

Seaver turned to see Lila had come up to her.

“For what?”

“I don’t know,” Lila said. “Making a movie about your life without realizing it was about your life.”

“You didn’t know about it. It’s not your fault.”

There was an awkward silence between them. Then Lila said, “But then, that’s what attracted me to the script.”

“What?”

“I’ve been looking for a really dramatic role, and I thought this would be a good one. I mean, an FBI agent who’s the daughter of a serial killer, searching for a serial killer who’s copying his style, and needing her father’s help to catch him. It was different from what roles I was being offered, to play a ditzy airhead who looks good in a swimsuit.”

“You’re not ditzy,” Seaver said. 

Lila asked, “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Such as?”

“Are you and Spencer – “

“No way,” Seaver quickly said. “He’s too focused on the job.”

“Oh, okay. Can I ask you something else? What was your father like? Before you found out he was a murderer? If you don’t want to answer, I’ll understand.”

“I don’t mind,” Seaver replied. “My father was actually a loving person. He cared for me, protected me. He also got me anything I wanted, almost to the point where I was spoiled. But it all changed when he got arrested.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He said he did it because he wanted to protect me,” Seaver said. 

“And now you track down people like your father,” Lila said. 

“It’s not that simple, but that’s what it boils down to.” Then she added, “I’m nothing like him.”

“Strange,” Lila said. “My character turns out to be something like him.”

“Really? Let me guess, your character ends up killing the bad guy.”

“As of now, I do. That could change.”

___________________________

“I got here as fast as I could,” Nick Johnson said to Harold Weyler. “What’s up? More changes to the script?”

“No, nothing like that,” Weyler said. “FBI wants to talk to you.”

Hotchner, Rossi, and Reid, were waiting for Johnson near the set.

“Hi there,” Johnson said to them. “What can I do for you?”

“First off, we need to know where you were last night,” Hotchner said. “Between ten last night and two this morning.”

“At a hotel, Riverwood Lodge, outside of town,” Johnson answered. “I did call my mom back in California around eleven before I went to sleep. Why?”

“The photographer who ran into you was murdered last night,” Reid said.

“He was?!” Johnson exclaimed. “Oh, man. Wait, you think I did it?”

“Did you?” Rossi asked.

“Heck no,” Johnson replied. “But I might as well tell you. I was out at a bar in town, and we ran into each other. The paparazzi guy.”

“What happened?” Reid asked.

“He said he was sorry, but he was only doing his job,” Johnson replied. “He offered to buy me a beer, but I told him no. A few minutes later, I left. I got back to the hotel just around ten thirty.”

“We’ll check your alibi,” Hotchner said, “but there’s something else as well. We understand you wrote the script for ‘Mind Ripper.’”

“I did,” Johnson said. “It’s only a tentative title, mind you.”

“We want to know where you got the inspiration for your script,” Hotchner said.

“I didn’t plagiarize anybody,” Johnson said defensively.

“Your script may have touched a nerve with some people,” Rossi said, “especially within the FBI.”

“A nerve?” Johnson said. “What do you mean?”

“An FBI agent whose father was a serial killer.” Hotchner said, “did you make that part up?”

Johnson looked nervously at the agents, then said, “I guess I better tell you the truth, because you’re going to find out anyway.” He paused, then continued. “I started this script a long time ago. Before I finished the script, I visited some prisons and detention centers around the country to get some insight on the subject of serial killers.

“I got some interviews with some prisoners in California, I even talked with one of the girls who ran around with Charles Manson,” he continued. “But a couple of years ago, I got wind of this serial killer in North Dakota who killed twenty five women and he was a family man. His name was Charles Beauchamp. So, I talked to some prison officials on the phone, made some arrangements, and got an interview with the guy. I asked how he ended up that way, why he did it, and if he was ever sorry. He gave me a lot of information. I asked him about his family, and he said he had a daughter who was now in the FBI. I asked him about that, and he said he was happy she found her way in life, not letting what he did define her life.”

The agents looked at him hard. What he did wasn’t illegal, writing a movie script about a serial killer. Maybe it was in bad taste, and considering what was going on in Charlottesville, definitely bad timing.

“Look, I’m sorry if I upset someone,” Johnson said, “but it’s just a movie script.”

“Thank you for your time,” Hotchner said. “We’ll be in touch if we need to talk to you again.”

“Okay,” Johnson said. He turned and walked away from the set. As he did, Lila and Seaver came back and passed him by. Seaver glanced at Johnson as he did, and vice versa. She did not get a cold feeling from him that would peg him as a serial killer.

Reid opened up his cell phone. “Garcia.”

“Hello, Doctor Genius.”

“Look up Nick Johnson. He’s a screenwriter. We need some background on him. Also, check the visitor’s log of the North Dakota State Penitentiary in Bismarck. He said he visited Charles Beauchamp. Check California prisons as well.”

“Will do.”

Seaver heard Reid’s request. “He talked to my father?”

“He says he did,” Rossi said. “Research for his script.”

“Oh, that’s just great,” Seaver said. “What else did he do?”

“Well, he says he didn’t kill Tom Mackowicz,” Reid said, “but we’re gonna check his alibi.”

“Excuse me!” someone called out. A man came by, pushing a cart with a prop for the next scene. It was of a made up, decomposing corpse. 

“A dead body,” Lila said. “Me and my partner are going to examine it and look for clues.”

“Well, as long as its not real,” Reid said.

______________________________

The agents and detective Grant, sans Reid, had returned to the police station. 

“We got a preliminary report from forensics,” J.J. said when they came into the conference room.

“What does it say?” Grant asked.

“No fingerprints in the room except Mackowicz.”

“Not a surprise,” Grant said. “No prints in the other scenes either.”

“But they did find some foreign hair,” J.J. said. “Blond hair, male.”

"Who has blond hair on the set?" Grant asked

“Jankowski, the security guy.” Morgan said.

“There was also some DNA under his fingernails,” J.J. said. 

“Jankowski was on the job in L.A.” Morgan pointed out. “His DNA should be on file.”

Hotchner said, “It’s enough to talk to him.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Jankowski is here,” Seaver said. “Grant put him in one of the interrogation rooms.”

“I just got off the phone with University Inn,” J.J. said. “He said the crew members were all there by eleven o’clock.”

“I’d like to talk to Jankowski,” Morgan suggested. “He was on the job.”

“Okay,” Hotchner said. “You and Rossi.”

“Just where is Mr. Hollywood anyway?” 

“Back on the set.”

Morgan and Rossi went into interrogation room was Jankowski was placed.

“What am I doing here?” Jankowski asked.

“Just routine,” Morgan said. “We just want to know where everyone was last night.”

“I heard that paparazzi guy was killed. I understand.”

“So, where were you?” Rossi asked.

Jankowski replied, “University Inn, with the rest of the crew.”

“Not the Best Western?”

“No. Why?”

“We found blond hair at the crime scene,” Morgan said. “Male. You’re a blond. See where this is going?”

Jankowski looked at the agents nervously. Finally, he said, “Okay, I ran into him last night.”

“Where?” Rossi asked. “A bar?”

“I was walking in, just as he was walking out,” Jankowski replied. “He said to me, ‘See ya tomorrow,’ so I reminded him that he wasn’t welcome on the set, and that security would throw him out if he showed up."

“Did you touch him?” Morgan asked.

“I grabbed him while I was making my point. Apparently, it didn’t sink in, because he didn’t wet his pants.”

“So, did you find him later, and make your point stick?”

“No,” Jankowski insisted.

“So, we’re not going to find your prints in his hotel room?” Rossi asked.

“No,” Jankowski said again.

“We ran a check on you,” Morgan said. “For the most part you had a spotless record. Up until the last year.”

“You had some problems with some of your fellow officers,” added Rossi.

“I was feeling a little underappreciated,” Jankowski said. “Some people were getting advanced when they shouldn’t have, and I let it be known.”

“From what we read, you were very vocal about it,” Morgan said.

“People should be advanced on merit,” Jankowski said, “not butt kissing.”

“Hey, it happens everywhere.”

“I know that. But some officers in my precinct, North Hollywood, were getting moved up even though they hardly did squat. I did my share of the hard work, and no one gave me a second look. The only time they did was when I got shot, and even then, it was kind of back handed.”

“What happened?” Rossi asked.

“There was a shootout with some gangbangers at this drug den, and I was first on the scene,” Jankowski said. “Soon as I get out of my cruiser, me and my partner started getting shot at. We called for backup, took a defensive stance, and returned fire. I took out one of them, tried to move to a better position for cover, and that’s when I get hit. I return fire as best as I could, before help arrives.

“It was all over in about ten minutes and we took out four bad guys, and arrest four more,” he continued. “I tell my story to my superiors, but I heard some others tell their side of the story and their version sounded better. They got the citations, I got a thank you and disability.”

Rossi and Morgan looked at Jankowski after his story. Maybe he’s the unsub, maybe not.

_______________________________

Back at the University of Virginia, the filming of “Mind Ripper” continued.

The scene that was being shot involved agent Ashley Stevens fighting with a potential suspect. It was late in the afternoon as Reid watched the crew set up the scene and were ready to shoot. He looked around and heard something above. He looked up and saw a flock of birds flying overhead. He couldn’t tell what kind of birds they were. Gideon would probably know.

“Okay, ready to go into the breach,” Lila said as she came up to the set. “Is everything all right?”

“I suppose so,” Reid said back. “My colleagues were interviewing the security guard Jankowski.”

“You don’t think he’s the killer, I mean, unsub,” Lila said.

“I’ll let you know.” 

Their conversation was interrupted by another conversation that was quickly increasing in volume.

“Come on, the scene was perfect as is!” Nick Johnson insisted.

“I just tweaked it, that’s all!” Gary Gorman countered. “The older agent comes to her rescue.”

“She should subdue the guy all by herself!” Johnson said back.

“It’s not like I’m making her an incompetent ditz,” Gorman said. “She’s just getting a little help, that’s all.”

“She can do the scene by herself!”

“Look, I’m trying to show her human side as well. She’s not a total bad ass, but she’s not a ditz either. She’ll still be the center of the story.”

Johnson finally conceded defeat in the argument. Reid recalled reading the script; the scene in question was for Lila’s character to confront a suspect and get into a scuffle with him when he tried to make a run for it. The scene called for Agent Stevens to take the suspect down by herself but now she was going to get help from the older agent Erskine.  
They shot the scene. It took about ten takes, because of the intricacy of the fight scene. Lila a.k.a. Agent Stevens, was to take a punch from the suspect, but dole out a lot more after that. Near the end of the scene, the suspect would slug Agent Stevens and try to make a break for it, only to have Agent Erskine tackle and subdue him.

As they shot the scene, Reid noticed Johnson stewing off to the side near a table of food set up by the caterers. He walked over to the screenwriter, as Johnson picked up a glazed donut.

“How’re you doing?” Reid asked.

“I’m okay, I guess,” Johnson replied. 

“Was the scene that important to you?” 

“It is. I know once you sell a script, the director has the right to change some scenes as he sees fit. My last script had some changes. But some of the scenes I wanted untouched.”

“Like this one,” Reid said.

“Of course,” Johnson replied. “I was trying to show that Agent Stevens isn’t some ditz with a gun. She’s a highly skilled, intelligent agent. She’s nothing like her serial killer father.” He then said, “I did toy with that idea though.”

“About what?”

“Her being like her serial killer father,” Johnson replied. “Genetics and all that, you know.”

Reid did know, being the son of a mother suffering from schizophrenia. But he also knew Agent Stevens – or in real life, Agent Seaver – was nothing like her father.

“When you talked to Charles Beauchamp in North Dakota,” Reid said, “did you bring that up?”

“You mean did I ask if he thought his daughter would end up like him?” Johnson answered. “I did. But like I told you guys earlier, he was glad that his daughter grew up and was nothing like him. Probably would have made for a better story, but I wrote it the way I wanted to.”

Reid nodded. “You said ‘last script’?”

“Oh yeah, it was kind of a scary movie, too, my last script,” Johnson said. “They made some changes to a scene or two, and I let my opinions be known about it, but it worked out for the best.”

Reid nodded. “Feeling a little underappreciated, don’t you?”

“Something like that,” Johnson replied.

“I know the feeling,” Reid said. “I’m the youngest agent in the BAU, and I don’t always get some of the credit I deserve.”

“Seniority has its privileges.” Johnson checked his watch. “Hey, I got to make some calls back to L.A. Nice talking with you.” Johnson left the set, just as Lila came up to Reid.

“What was that all about?” she asked.

“He wanted the scene to stay as is, not changed,” Reid replied. He then thought about their conversation.

_Feeling a little under appreciated._

The profile said the unsub would accomplish a goal that others thought he couldn’t meet, then had a ‘so what’ attitude when they saw that he had. 

Lila said to him, “I’m almost done here. When I’m finished, let’s get something to eat.”

Reid watched as Johnson walked away, biting into the donut he had in his hand.

“Spencer, is something wrong?”

He replied, “I’m not sure.” 

Maybe Nick Johnson was the unsub.


	9. Chapter 9

Reid went back to the police station, as Morgan and Rossi finished up interrogating Hank Jankowski.

“I don’t think he’s our guy,” Morgan said to the others after Jankowski left. “He fits the profile, but he has an alibi for the time of the Mackowicz’ murder.”

“I think Nick Johnson could be our unsub,” Reid said. He dialed up Garcia back in Quantico.

“Hey there Mr. Hollywood!” she greeted. “What’s new at Charlottesville Tinseltown?”

“Did you get that information on Nick Johnson, the screenwriter?” Reid asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” she replied. “He’s born and raised in Los Angeles. Went to college at UCLA. He’s listed in the screenwriter’s guild, and has had three scripts published. And yes, according to his plastic, he did visit the North Dakota State Penitentiary where Ashley’s father is incarcerated. He charged plane tickets to Bismarck and a hotel stay there as well.”

“His last movie, which was that?” 

“His last movie was ‘The Last Calling.’ It was a crime story. They filmed it last year in St. Louis.”

“Any unsolved murders during the time they filmed it?”

There was the sound of furious typing on the other end. “There was two,” Garcia replied. “Two men, a few days apart. Both killed the same way.”

“How so?” Hotchner asked.

“With a hook. Both victims were wounded with cuts by a hook to their necks. But that’s not all. When they were found, they had been smeared with honey, and had been attacked by bees. Police found the hook after the second murder. Both men had gang affiliations in St. Louis.”

Seaver said. “It’s ‘Candyman.’”

“’Candyman?’” asked Rossi.

“Another horror movie,” Seaver replied. “The killer was the ghost of a black man who was lynched. The lynch mob cut off his hand, replaced it with a hook, covered him in honey and set a swarm of bees on him to kill him. His ghost comes back to the present day to kill the descendants of the ones who killed him.”

Morgan looked at Seaver. “You watch too many movies for your own good.”

“Wait a minute, Garcia,” J.J. said. “When did those murders occur in St. Louis?”

“Let me check,” Garcia replied. “Okay, it was May 20th and 25th.”

“And compare it to when the murders happened in Carbondale.”

“Carbondale is a two-hour drive from St. Louis, and they’re close to the Mississippi River,” Reid pointed out.

Garcia replied from Quantico, “The murders in Carbondale happened on May 22, 24, 28, and June 3.”

“Check his credit card statements from that time period,” Hotchner quickly said.

More typing from Quantico. “Found it. He has an American Express card and he used it for a hotel stay in both St. Louis and Johnston City, Illinois, about twenty miles from Carbondale.”

“He was going back and forth to find and kill his victims,” Morgan said.

“So do the scripts inspire him,” Hotchner said, “or does his killing inspire him?”

“Garcia, any red flags before he was published?” Reid asked.

“Let me see,” she replied. “Here’s something. He was brought before a disciplinary committee at UCLA when he challenged the authority of a professor who said a literary project for one of his classes was plagiarized. He went out of his way to prove that it wasn’t. In the end, he was proven innocent, but later he punched out the professor who accused him."

“He wasn’t arrested?” Rossi asked.

“LAPD charged him with misdemeanor assault,” Garcia replied. 

“He probably has a history of doing hard work and people telling him it’s not good enough,” J.J. said. “These murders are probably his way of telling people that his work is not only good enough but also superior.”

“That’s all well and good,” Seaver said, “but what about his idea for ‘Mind Ripper?’”

Rossi replied, “Why, do you think in some way, this is his way of showing you or trying to tell you something?”

“It could be,” Seaver said.

“One way to find out,” Reid said.

______________________________

He picked up his cell phone on the second ring. “Hello, this is Nick Johnson.”

“Hi, Nick? This is Lila Archer.”

“What’s up?”

“It’s about the script,” Lila replied. “The final scene where my character confronts the killer.”

“What about it?”

“Can we talk about it?”

“What for?”

“I think I found a way to improve the scene without changing it. I thought I would run it by you before Gary decided on his own and take it in a different direction than either of us wanted.”

“I don’t think it needs improvement,” Johnson replied, “but tell me what you think anyway.”\

“Well, I think the character could be a little more….vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable?”

“I mean, her daddy is a serial killer. She’s hiding behind a tough façade. She can’t suppress it that much, if at all.”

“Well, I thought about that too. I didn’t want to make a superwoman, but I didn’t want her to be an emotional wreck either.”

“I’m not asking for either or,” Lila said. “Maybe somewhere in between.”

There was a pause for a while. He finally said, “Vulnerable, huh?”

“By that, she’s not afraid to confront her demons, but at the same time, she doesn’t want to be looked upon as weak. If I can channel that, I can make the character more vulnerable, possibly more human, without making her look weak in the eyes of her peers.”

Another pause. 

“Well?” Lila asked.

“I have to think about it,” Johnson said.

“That’s fine,” she said. “It’s still a great script, I just think there can be more to my character. In fact, the place where we’ll be shooting tomorrow night, for the big confrontation. That old Victorian house. Let’s meet there later tonight, we can talk about it more.”

“Tonight? Sure.”

“About nine, nine thirty,” Lila said. “I’m having dinner tonight with my friend Spencer.”

“Sounds good. You’re close with him, aren’t’ you?” 

“I owe him a lot.”

“Well, enjoy your dinner tonight. See you later.”

Lila heard him hang up his phone. She clicked off her cell phone.

“Well, how was that?” she asked the agents. Lila was brought to the police station under heavy security and was in the conference room with them and Detective Grant.

“Sounded great,” Reid said to her. 

“Oscar material,” Rossi said. 

“Emmy is more like it,” Lila said. “Do you think he’ll come after me? Is his ego that fragile that he’ll kill anyone who thinks his work is that inferior to what he thinks it is?”

“This kind of unsub needs adulation and praise to feed his ego,” Seaver said. “He sees criticism as a threat to his happiness, even if its constructive to some degree.”

“He seemed so normal,” Lila said.

“So was Maggie,” Reid said.

Lila asked, “So, how are you going to find out if Nick is really the killer, or as you say, the unsub?”

Reid replied, “If he tries to kill you.”

__________________

Nick Johnson sat in his hotel room, stewing over another slight.

Nobody believed in him. Nobody wanted to, because nobody wanted him around.

His parents tried, encouraging him to follow his dreams. Both his parents were school teachers in southern California, and they liked the idea of him being a published writer. And he did become one. Short stories published in crime magazines, wonderfully written. His parents and his friends were astonished at his success. Then he had original screenplays that have been turned into movies. That made everyone take notice.

With success came criticism. Criticism was one thing, outright negativity was another. He could handle criticism, as long as it was constructive. But criticism just for the sake of it, designed to deride him, in hopes of making him go away. They didn’t want to deal with him, because his stories weren’t the stories they were looking for. But they would take the same story from someone else, probably because they knew them better.

Then there were the people he wanted to impress. Girls who turned him down for dates. Agents who didn’t think much of his work because they never heard of him. Producers who thought his scripts lacked depth and emotion. The casual fan who could be impressed by his prose but belittle him face to face.

He wanted everything to be his way. He didn’t care about perfection, as long as people liked it. 

He wanted people to like his work. He wanted people to like him.

But when people didn’t like his work because they didn’t like him, that wasn’t right. He wanted to show them that they were wrong.

That’s why he killed those people. Whenever someone didn’t like his work or make it known they didn’t like him.

In St. Louis, he was told by the director that the murders in his story lacked depth and passion. They lacked originality. They were thought provoking or capable of giving nightmares.

That’s when he killed the people both in St. Louis and Carbondale. To prove that he could be original, at least in motive, and provoke thought. And he killed people like they did in the movies. Like in “Candyman” or “Seven,” or “Black Christmas”, and he did it in a way that no one would suspect, in two separate cities.

And now here in Charlottesville. Just like Alfred Hitchcock did in his movies. The hooker he was with before she became his first victim. The guy he befriended in the bar who was going to housesit for his parents. The cute caterer he asked out. He tried to kill that idiot paparazzi like in “Torn Curtain”, but he fought back. That’s how he ended up head first in the TV. The Nightmare on Elm Street movies weren’t among his favorites. 

Now he was going to show them again that he was great, and worthy of praise. That FBI agent whose daddy was the serial killer, that provided him with great inspiration. A nice girl with an evil father. It made for a great character. He wanted to know if she was anything like her father, but that would have to wait.

First, the leading lady would have to die.


	10. Chapter 10

Lila and Spencer left the restaurant. It was just before nine o’clock. Over dinner, Spencer told Lila of some of the BAU cases they had since they last saw each other. He told her of Gideon’s departure, Rossi’s return, and J.J.’s stint at the State Department. He also finally told her of the time he got shot last year protecting an emergency room doctor – Lila was naturally shocked at that.

They walked down the street next to each other, though not hand in hand, as they talked like two friends who hadn’t seen each other in a long time, which was true. Some people on the street saw them, recognizing Lila Archer, and wondering who her mystery man was here in Charlottesville.

Of course, they weren’t the only ones watching. From inside a non-descript van equipped with the latest high tech surveillance gear, Hotchner and Morgan, with a Charlottesville plain clothes officer behind the wheel, watched from inside on the monitors as Spencer and Lila walked to the SUV they were using.

“We have eyes on you Spence,” Morgan said. Reid could hear through the earpiece in his ear.

“They’re still watching us?” Lila asked.

“Just act naturally,” Reid said to her.

“It’s kind of different from how I usually act.”

The two got into the SUV. The non-descript van soon followed at a safe distance, as Reid and Lila drove to the outskirts of Charlottesville. They pulled up to an old, two story, Victorian house in a tree lined neighborhood. The house looked as if it was a product of the old South. A couple of vans were already parked outside.

“We’ll be filming some scenes here tomorrow night,” Lila said. “It’s where I confront the serial killer and take him down.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Reid asked.

“I will,” Lila replied.

“Just follow the script.”

Reid looked up at the night sky. It was clear and he could see the moon. He also saw a few birds circling overhead. They looked like crows.

Reid said goodbye and drove off. Lila went inside the house and waited.

Five minutes later, her cell phone rang.

“Lila?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Nick. Are you at the house?”

“I’m inside.”

“I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

“I’ll be upstairs.”

A couple of minutes later, Nick Johnson arrived. He parked his rental car outside the house and walked up the steps to the Victorian and entered.  
Inside, he looked around the darkened hallway that led to the living room and the kitchen. A double staircase was to his right. One going up, one going down.

“Nick!” Lila called out. 

“Where are you?” Nick returned.

“I’m upstairs.”

Nick went up the staircase. Some of his steps creaked the wood below his feet as he went up. He finally made it up to the top and looked around.

“Lila?” he called out.

She said back, “Master bedroom!”

The master bedroom was at the end of the hallway. Johnson went down the hallway and entered there.

The master bedroom was pretty much empty, save for some portable klieg lights off to the side. Some of the film crew had brought some equipment over for the shoot tomorrow night. 

“Lila?”

“Over here.”

Nick looked to where she was. There was a swivel chair some feet ahead of him, under a single solitary light bulb hanging from the ceiling. She was sitting there.  
Nick reached inside his jacket. He pulled out a butcher’s knife and quickly walked to the chair. He raised the knife as he reached the chair and swung it around.

The person in the chair was still, except the head that rolled off and fell to the floor as the chair turned around. It was a mannequin. Johnson jumped back as his knife hand hit the light fixture, causing it to swing back and forth above.

“What the – “

Someone shouted,“FBI! DROP IT!”

Johnson turned around, the knife still in hand. 

Under the swinging light, there stood agent Seaver, her service weapon trained directly at Johnson.

“I SAID DROP IT!”

Johnson dropped the knife.

Ashley said into her wrist communicator, “Come on in!”

________________

Outside, Reid hustled Lila out the back of the house. Reid had driven around and came back a couple of minutes later. He waited outside for Lila, who hid away from Johnson as he went inside. Hotchner and Morgan emerged from the van they were following. Rossi and Detective Grant were also there. It was Seaver who was calling out for Johnson from upstairs.

“Are you okay?” Grant asked.

“I am,” Lila said. “Did he fall for it?”

“Sounds like he did,” Morgan said.

The officer inside the van came rushing out.

“We got a problem,” he said. “We got static on the communicator. I can’t hear her.”

“Inside, now!” Hotchner ordered.

___________________________

Seaver kept her gun aimed at Johnson.

“Hands where I can see them!” she demanded,

Johnson raised his hands. “Go ahead shoot me,” he said.

“Quiet!”

"Aren’t you the least bit curious? Don’t you want to find out?”

“About what? We know you killed all those people here and in St. Louis.”

“I did. I won’t deny it.” He then said, “But tell me, don’t you want to know if you’re anything like your father?”

“I’m not anything like him!”

“Are you sure? I talked to your father, remember? He told me all about you. He said he was happy you made a good life for yourself.”

“I’m not my father.”

“Then find out. Kill me.” Johnson took a step forward.

“Don’t move!” 

“Do it!” Johnson dared. “Shoot me! Prove to yourself you’re just like your father.”

Seaver had not yet fired her weapon in her time with the BAU, but she was prepared for the inevitability that she would. At the same time, if she did kill someone in the line of duty, would that make her like her father? Even if it was self-defense.

“I am nothing like my father,” Seaver insisted. “I will never kill anyone in cold blood for the hell of it.”

“Are you sure, knowing what he did, what he is?” Johnson said, a look of smugness coming across his face. “There’s only one way to know for sure.”

“I don’t need to know, because I already do.”

“Seaver!” Hotchner called out, as she heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

“In here!” she called out. She moved her head for just a split second. 

That was all that Johnson needed. He lunged at her, hands extending forward. Seaver fired her weapon, the muzzle flash quickly dissipating.

Suddenly, without warning, a chunk of the ceiling gave way. Johnson stumbled into Seaver, as his hands made a play for her gun. At that point, that’s when things got strange.

What little light there was in the room, was suddenly obliterated by something swarming in from the opening in the ceiling. Everything began to flicker inside as something hit Seaver in the face, amidst high pitched screeches.

She fell on the floor, as she dropped her gun. She couldn’t tell where Johnson was but he wasn’t on top of her. She tried to get to her feet, but whatever was in the room with them was flying all about in about a thousand directions, all the while there was screeching sounds emanating from all over.

Seaver tried to see what it was, holding up her right arm to shield herself from whatever it was. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of whatever it was, was flying about the room, making loud noises.

Suddenly, Seaver heard Johnson scream. She tried to see where he was. He was a few feet in front of her, on the floor, flailing and screaming as something was assaulting him. Even in the darkness, she could make out figures all over him, some big, some small, some black, some white…and now some of them were going after her.

She backed away on the floor, pushing herself towards the door. It was then she realized what was in the room with her and Johnson, as one of them flew right at her. She knocked it away, flailing at the others that were about to launch at her.

“Ashley!” someone shouted. She felt a hand grab her arm, as she recognized the voice. It was Rossi.

“Get her out of there!” Hotchner yelled.

Rossi grabbed Seaver by the other arm and pulled her out the door. Once she was clear, Morgan slammed the door shut.

“Is she okay?” Hotchner asked. Rossi, Hotchner, Morgan, Reid and Detective Grant were in the hallway.

Slowly but surely, Seaver began to regain her senses, gasping for air. Rossi held her close, being the closest thing to a father for Seaver.

“You got some cuts on your arms,” he noted.

“What happened in there?” Reid asked.

She collected her breath, then replied, “Johnson dropped the knife, then he went after me. Then part of the ceiling gave way, and something came into the room, and attacked us both.” She looked at the door. “He’s still in there!”

The agents listened carefully. They couldn’t hear anything.

Morgan slowly opened the door, as the agents drew their service weapons and entered the room. Hotchner shined a small flashlight around, looking for what caused the melee inside.

“There,” Rossi said.

Hotchner shined the light to where Rossi was looking. There was Nick Johnson, his corpse on the floor, his head turned away. Blood was splattered all over his body.

Reid moved to the other side of the body. “Guys, look,” he said.

The others moved to where they could see what Reid was looking at. Hotchner pointed the light at the body. Johnson’s face had numerous cuts and gashes on it. The only thing it didn’t have was eyes. The sockets were empty; they had been pecked out.

There was a noise. The agents looked at where it came from, the gap in the ceiling. Hotchner shined his light at the gap.

A couple of crows, and a seagull were there. As the light shined on them, they flew off.

“Birds,” Rossi said.

“’The Birds,’” Reid corrected. “In the movie, they killed.”

Morgan said, “Here, they saved her life.”


	11. Chapter 11

According to the police report, the roof of the Victorian house was old and partially decayed. Unbeknownst to the movie company and the people who leased the house to them, part of the roof had rotted and fallen in – some trees branches over the house had obscured the hole in the roof – and the ceiling above the master bedroom began to rot as well.

From what the house inspectors could see, a flock of various birds had flown in and perched there at the time Nick Johnson had confronted agent Seaver in the bedroom. The rotting wood gave way at the same time Seaver fired at Johnson, and the birds, panicked by the gunshot, flew inside and caused the mayhem.

Reid said that all seemed plausible. Birds weren’t his specialty, and though he knew that different birds didn’t fly together, he really couldn’t think of another reason for what happened. Why the birds seemed to congregate in Charlottesville at that particular time had no answer. If he ever saw Gideon again, he would have to ask him.

A search of Johnson’s hotel room led to the discovery of evidence he was their unsub. The handle of butcher’s knife that broke off in Mackowicz’ chest was in his room. It was also the same knife he used to kill Janet Curtis inside her apartment. He had bought a new butcher’s knife from a store to use on Lila. He also had a piece of jewelry that belonged to the hooker he put in the Rivanna River outside of town. A bartender in town where Philip Shaw had a drink prior to his death recognized from a photo that Johnson was with him inside the bar before he killed him.

Johnson’s photo was sent to the police in both St. Louis and Carbondale. It would be a formality to prove that Johnson had committed the murders in those cities.

With that, Detective Grant thanked the agents and they headed back to Quantico – minus Reid.

He stayed in Charlottesville the rest of the week to watch Lila during the filming of “Mind Ripper”. The paparazzi did photograph Lila Archer when she wasn’t on set, and the gossip rags, upon hearing that she helped the FBI catch a serial killer, wonder if she was in contact with her “mystery man” from five years ago.

The movie wrapped on Friday and “Mind Ripper” was bound to be a talked about movie when it came out. Whether it helped the box office when it would be released, that would have to wait.

At the University Inn, Reid met Lila in the lobby. He had spent the last week of filming on set, watching Lila perform well as an FBI agent.

Now it was time for them to say goodbye again, like they did five years ago.

“You were right,” Lila said to him. “You’ve never had a normal day in your life.”

“Such is the life of an FBI agent who’s also a genius,” he said back. “So now what?”

“My next movie, which ever that may be. I’m flying back to Los Angeles later tonight.”

“You don’t know yet?”

“I have all these scripts to decide from. I was still looking through them when I flew out here.”

“What are they?” Reid asked.

“Well, one movie has me being a CIA operative working a mission in Paris.”

“CIA?” Reid chuckled. “Those guys can’t be trusted. I know from experience.”

“There’s another one that has me as a businesswoman,” Lila said, “being stalked by a nut job security guard in an underground parking garage.”

“I’d pass on that one,” Reid said. 

“And there’s this script that has me as the warrior girlfriend of this underwater superhero,” Lila said. 

“I think I’d watch that movie,” Reid said.

Lile said, “I told them as long as my costume isn’t a bikini, I’d consider it.”

“I’d still watch it.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Will I see you again?” Lila asked.

“I hope so,” Reid replied.

Lila took Reid’s hand and placed it on her cheek. “I hope so too.” She leaned over and kissed him.

“Goodbye Spencer,” she said.

“Goodbye, Lila,” she said.

With that, Reid headed back to the BAU headquarters in Quantico.

_____________________________

“So, your mind’s made up?” Rossi asked.

“It is,” Seaver said. 

Seaver would be starting next week working for Andi Swann as part of the domestic trafficking task force in Washington DC.

She had placed her files and books in a box on her desk. She was ready for the next chapter of life. The other BAU agents gathered around her to say their goodbyes.

“Are you sure we can’t change your mind?” J.J. asked.

“I’m sure,” Seaver said. “I’ve enjoyed my time here with the BAU.” J.J. went over to her and gave her a hug.

“Good luck over there,” Morgan said, as he gave her a hug as well.

“Thanks for everything,” Reid said. He allowed himself a hug with Seaver, germs be damned.

“Thanks for letting me be a part of this team,” Seaver said to Hotchner. 

“You’ve been a good agent for us,” he said to her, as gave her a hug and a rare smile.

“Hope to see you again someday,” Garcia said to Seaver, as she got in her hug.

“Great to know, Penelope,” Seaver said.

Seaver then turned to Rossi. The one who rescued her from her father, and later brought her to the BAU, as her mentor and her father figure.

“Thanks for giving me my start,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” he said as he hugged her goodbye. “You need anything, you can give me a call.”

“Thanks Dave.”

“Anytime kiddo.”

Seaver picked up her box and headed for the elevators. As they watched her leave, Morgan asked Reid, “How was Lila?”

“She’s headed home as we speak,” Reid answered. “She might be a CIA agent in her next movie.”

“CIA? Why? She’s already been an FBI agent. Nothing else would be close.”

The elevator doors opened and Seaver stepped inside. She turned around and smiled, saying goodbye to them and the Behavioral Analysis Unit. The agents smiled and waved back, as the elevator doors closed on this chapter of Ashley Seaver’s life.

____________________________

Ernie Harwell said, _“It is time to say goodbye but I think goodbyes are sad and I’d much rather say hello. Hello is a new adventure.”_


End file.
